Feeling like a Fool

 

Have you ever been doing something and knew you should be paying more attention, but since you had done it successfully many times before, you just ignored that little voice of reason niggling in the back of your mind?

Most of the time, it comes to naught, and another disaster or accident is averted through no thought nor action of our own.

For me, today was not one of those days. Today my inattention and taking a shortcut when I definitely know better caught up with me.

Before starting work on my grandson’s small house, I needed to build a new cart for my generator. The flimsy cart I have used for years was cracked and I could no longer bring the generator in the house during the day to be warm enough to start in the evening.

I took the casters off the old cart to reuse on the new one as they were sturdy and still in good condition. I cut a heavy duty piece of ¾ inch plywood to use as a base. Not thinking ahead to what I intended, I cut the whole piece off at once instead of cutting the thin strips I wanted along the sides to keep the generator from sliding off the base if I pulled too firmly on it.

My battery powered skilsaw has a faulty sticking blade guard and I usually pay better attention, but wanting this job done before the kids came out to help on the house, I rushed through cutting the strip of wood into smaller strips of wood.

The saw kicked back and feathered across the inside of three fingers of my left hand. Oh, shit. Instant mess.

My hand closed into a fist immediately to shield my eyes from what I knew would not be a pretty sight. The fact that no blood sprayed out and the entire finger was still on each space it was supposed to occupy did help a bit. No nausea indicated I had not hit bone.

As the cold air hit me when I stepped out the door, I immediately had to use the outhouse. Logistics of undoing jeans, pulling them down, wiping, pulling them back up, fastening them are better left unsaid.

I walked over to my daughter’s house and asked her if she had any band aids.

“Mom, what did you do now and do we need to get to town?”

I told her, “No, we didn’t need to go to town, I just needed to do some cleaning, looking and repairing, but I think band aids will do it, maybe some peroxide and some Bag Balm would be good, too.”

She found the band aids in the knife drawer (handy, that) while Paul got the peroxide. I opened my hand up and it looked nasty. I wiped it fairly clean around the affected areas and sprayed it down with peroxide. No pain from that, so it probably isn’t all that deep. I wiped up the mess and it was welling more blood out, but one good thing about minus 2 degree weather, it slows bleeding quite well.

Kara opened band aids, I glopped some Bag Balm on all three fingers, even though two are barely through surface skin, and put the band aids on. Two of the fingers only get one each, the index finger gets three band aids as it continues to look a bit icky and wells out more blood.

To keep from bending the finger too much until it closes up better, we duct tape the index finger to the middle finger on my left hand which makes wearing gloves out of the question. Now, through the decision of the 4 year old great grandson, I have glow in the dark Batman duct tape wrapped fingers.

We went back over to the cabin, I tacked the narrow strip down and finished cutting the strips I needed. Paul put the casters on the cart and we came down to put the generator on it.

It works perfectly.

When we finished for the day, I came home, made a cayenne capsule to help keep it from bleeding again and kept ice packs on it as I had done off and on all afternoon. A zip bag of snow makes a wonderful ice pack.

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